Robin Goodfellow Goes Competitive
by Artie.freaking.Abrams
Summary: All his life, Robin Goodfellow has never met anyone like Meghan. And he loves her.  But when the winter prince Ash steals more than just Meghan, how far will Puck have to go to set things right?
1. Chapter 1

Reality Bites Me

In my room late at night – about a quarter to twelve – when the moon was a distant band of white and the only light was a small fluorescent I'd conjured myself into being, and only if I'd said nothing overly offensive throughout the day (although admittedly, I often couldn't help myself from doing so) and that special temperature that reminded me of her flew into the window (lukewarm, but with a slight edge to it), did I allow myself to think of her. I mean _think_ about her, Meghan, in a way that I knew was forbidden. I was here to protect her, was I not? And wouldn't underlying affections, especially ones with deeper intentions, cloud my judgement?

Probably so. But who was King Oberon to disregard me, or to tell me off for having a love I couldn't control.

A great whale of a person, actually. And one that might banish me if he knew.

You see, Oberon has his own ways and when he wants to control, I, his right – hand man (er, faery) – am the one who is expected to observe that the rules are followed.

However, from time to time I cannot stop myself, and what pours into my head frightens me for its intensity. It is an intensity, a kind of feeling, that has never been experienced by me; I do not know what to do about it, and so I held it and kept it, afraid what would happen if I let my longing go and even more, of what would happen if I kept it.

And so here I sit in the same room, the one in which I worry about whether or not word of this will reach the ears of my powerful king. Knowing that I am somehow encased in a cage, a place where every move I make is exaggerated and echoed and analyzed, and the mostly – cruel humans never seem to understand _real humor_.

The only reason I even stayed here properly, and the only reason that I don't hide someplace safe, is because of her, Meghan. Because if I left she would be devastated; and even with that, I know she will move on from me. And I will never move on from anything, because I am basically immortal.

And no, I am not being over dramatic.

And yes, I am Robin Goodfellow – but you can call me Puck, because I won't be meeting you any time soon, anyway.

Today happens to be a big day, seeing as that Meghan is turning driver's – license – aged. Sixteen, if you have to ask.

She is walking toward me now; and even if my heart beats a little faster, I've grown used to it, and she's around me so often she probably thinks that I have a naturally high metabolism. Well, then. And the first words go to…

"HI, Meghan!" I give her a big sly grin, the one that I know she hates, just for her birthday. I try not to laugh bitterly. This may very well be the last day of faux – normalcy, which, by the way, I've grown to sort of like.

The first words go to me, I guess.

"Hi Rob." Meghan answers me. I notice immediately that her cheeks are a little bit flushed, and as I give her the once – over, her hair looks as if she might have combed it; not my favorite. I can fix that.

"Catch this," I say way too suddenly, and Meghan turns with a start to find an apple flying toward her at pinball – speed. In mere seconds she's dunking and I'm splashing her with a very rude amount of mud. The streets are full of it here in the swamps, as we call them.

"Y'know, this is a bit unfair," Meghan is panting slightly and her face, which used to be only slightly pink, are now full –blown red. I only laugh, and in several more moments, we are both covered with mud and trading playful insults. She probably doesn't know the edge of desparation to mine; I feel a bit like I am seeing her for the last time, which might very well be true.

Better to make it good, then.

For a full, torturous second, my fingers are aching, my face burning to meet her. There is nothing that I want more that her, and at this moment, I am really prepared to go for it.

And when my vision clears of a blinding delusion, in which she might actually not push me away, in which she thinks of me as more than a friend, Meghan is climbing aboard the bus. And the bus driver's shooting me daggers.

Trying to knock some old Puck – swagger into my attitude, I grin at him hugely and take my sweet, sweet time in climbing the plastic steps. The glare he gives me once I'm on proves that this will be the last time for a long time that I ride the school bus.

As Meghan walks down the aisle, dragging me a bit behind her, I turn my face toward the black roof and imagine, with a harsh sort of reality, that my future is just that dark and emotionless.


	2. Chapter 2

Halfway through second period I was half – asleep, and so dazed that Meghan had to pinch me on the arm to get me awake.

"H-huh… _Woah."_

I blinked double – time in the fluorescent light of the classroom, and tossed my thick auburn hair out of my eyes, wincing as I rubbed my shoulder. "What…" I repeated myself again and several times more, albeit softly, until my eyes were all the way open (and this took a long time; I'm a _really_ heavy sleeper). As soon as I saw Meghan, my confusion dimmed somewhat, which was good even if it was replaced by blood rushing to my cheeks. I groaned inwardly; _how attractive_. Why was it that this human who I'd known for not even two decades (which is like two seconds to me; I can barely _remember_ how old I am) make me feel so flustered? Fay do not fall for random humans; they just don't.

Meghan must have seen the look of pensiveness on my face, because concern was etched in her expression. Her mouth was pulled taught; was she _concerned_? Meghan isn't the type of person to get concerned.

"Hey princess," I drawled, "watcha looking at? Something on your mind?"

That did the trick; Meghan snapped out of that dour expression and turned to me with a catty grin.

"No," she replied. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were being a little bit overprotective!" The words were light, but they caught me; I was supposed to be overprotective, wasn't I? That was my job. So why did I always want her to think of me as more than a… Friend, or a guardian?

I slapped the smile off her face with a comeback. "I would've said the same to you, although it was nice of you to look out and all, if you hadn't been staring at a certain blondie's head in the front of the classroom." Meghan blushed furiously; I was pleased with myself. It was so very ego – boosting to live in a world where my peers were as see through as glass. "You're not harboring secret _affections_, princess, are you?"

Meghan turned even more red – if that was possible – and looked as if she was about to either say something harsh or slap me, but then thought better of it. Her mouth closed and her arms pressed to the sides before she realized it was useless to try for intimidation. Even in my Robbie – not Goodfellow alias, I didn't get intimidated, and I was a step ahead before Meghan even saw it coming.

_Well, at least I can end that little fantasy, if she's going to change everything tonight._ The thought sent cold, painful shivers down my spine, making me tremble even in the humidity, and I had the sudden urge to tear my hair out. I resisted.

The blond Meghan had been salivating over was in the corner – could he see me? Yes, he could definitely see me. Good. I leaned forward and, in a huge, starry – eyed show of chivalry I leaned forward to whisper something to Meghan; I took the time to pull her hair from behind her ear delicately, _romantically_, as I spoke.

"Just hold still. Act natural, and this won't be at all embarrassing." Meghan shook with suppressed fury but complied.

Well, the last part was not _entirely_ a lie. Maybe.

I pulled away from Meghan but not before I went back, ever so slightly, to quickly kiss her cheek. And for a moment I realized that this was a bad idea; the closer I got to her, the closer I wanted to get.

Speaking loudly, I turned back to half – way face my audience. "So its on Saturday, right? At about ten? I'll pick you up- just don't forget to make some story for your folks; we might be out a little _laaate_." I sang the last word, partly to Meghan – who was by now wondering whether to laugh or to kill me – and halfway to my audience, which earned a few hoots and a bit of a snicker from the corner.

Well it looked like whatever plans Meghan had thought of for blondie wouldn't be going anywhere tonight.

_Or tomorrow, or ever…_ A mean voice said in my head, as the mushroom cloud reappeared above me. The kids were gone now, and Meghan was still standing there stock – still, looking at me with daggers. I had to say something.

"Well, I didn't want Blondie stealing you did I, princess? Not on your sixteenth!" I said rather pitifully. Meghan frowned at me.

"His name's _Scott_."

"Well," I searched for words out of a near – dead beat brain, "Scott probably had other plans anyways." I finally found the words; the ones that would maybe, possibly get the job done.

Get the job done… Like I wanted this. Like I wanted never to see her again; either that or put her in so much pain in the span of a few minutes, she would hate me for eternity; and she'd probably live for eternity, if she had it one way.

Well, it might be time to sever the ties after all.

"Hey princess?"

"Hey is for horses."

"Yeah whatever. I'm thinking, so its your sixteenth, and life is rather miserable. And I've got a few bucks on my hands…" At Meghan's quizzical look I added, "favor from some friends."

Meghan snickered. "I'm not so sure, Robbie – how much will my parents have to pay if the cops catch us?"

"Hey hey hey, princess!" I gave her a wounded look, not entirely fake as it were. "Don't make any false assumptions! I was gonna say, I could buy some champagne and all, and maybe if your parents aren't in a nosy mood – which is pretty much all the time – we could live it up a little." I grinned crookedly. When Meghan entwined her hand in mine – which, however unromantic, was a silent _yes_ – my heart stuttered.

We walked down the hallway in silence, a layer of undetectable sadness shrouding me. Meghan didn't notice anything. After all, I don't have to be Robin Goodfellow in every single _Midsummer Night's Dream_ to be an actor, do I?

It was a smooth pathway from Lunch until the ending bell, which is why I should have known disaster was in the midst. It did seem to follow me everywhere in the mortal realm. And because of my carelessness, because I wasn't with Meghan on the walk from buildings to the bus, we wound up here – but I'll explain that later.

SO what did happen to Meghan? If you've read the Iron Fey series you might think you know, but keep in mind, that in this series all does _not_ go according to book ; )


	3. Chapter 3

Meghan's eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, and I immediately sprung into action, whispering – well, maybe sort of yelling – 'Meghan, Meghan, do you hear me Meghan? C'mon Princess; wake up! Wake up!'

For two hours I'd been crouched by her cot in the nurse's office. Can you blame me?

Her eyelids twitched suddenly, and all at once her body began to convulse, spasming back and forth and jerking so hard that she tumbled into my waiting arms. For a second the violent movement stopped, and then her eyes began to fill with tears. She tried really, really hard to suppress them, but those traitor eyes gave away how hurt she was.

"Meghan… What happened? What did they do to you?" I'd been waiting all afternoon to get the answer, and I would need it, seeing as I had a grand attack plan for whoever had caused this.

It had happened while I was walking back from French class. The lockers are all the way across campus, so there was about a ten – minute span in which Meghan had been brutally harassed – I know because I found her crumpled against a door as delicate as a leaf, her head bent and streaked with dirt and tears. I had shaken her, and yelled – there was one point where I contemplated on calling the FBI to find out exactly what was wrong with her – but eventually I settled on bringing her to the nurse. This might seem stupid to you, but _our_ school's nurse is a Faerie nurse, and so she can cure jus about anything. Even moderate head trauma, which is what she told me that Meghan had.

Anyway.

"P-Puck…" Meghan's voice was tiny, quivery. It only made me more angry. I had the urge to clench my fists around something and strangle it, but seeing as Meghan was currently occupying my personal space bubble, that would have to wait.

"Meghan, tell me who did this to you." I had to be strong. My voice was strong, at least.

"It's a l-long s-s-story. Puck," Meghan sat up and pushed herself up onto the cot, suddenly aware of the peculiarity of the situation; her eyes widened, and her jaw was set. "I… I was w-walking t-t-to the lockers, and this guy… No it was a shadow, and I couldn't really see what it was… well, it c-c-came up… Under the floor. It was under there, I swear – it came u-up, and it p-pushed me down, and it started to strangle me, wrapped its fingers…" Meghan's voice was becoming louder and steadier, but panic was creeping into her voice. No, not creeping; it was leaping into her voice.

I knew what this meant, it meant that they'd come too early. They, being the Winter Fae, the Faeries who all of my people, the Summer Fae, were forever at odds with. And seeing as Meghan was our king's daughter, she had seemed to be an easy target. The thing was, how did they know that Meghan was even half fae? She didn'to even know – she was just beginning to _see _the fae! Meghan wouldn't be a faerie until tonight, when I would give her the choice of becoming one, and when she would have her first faerie drink.

Meghan had lost all words, and she was rocking against her cot. Lost in my thoughts, and certainly preoccupied, it was all I could do to motion her to me.

"Meg… You know I can go after them… Whoever it was, right?"

She began to nod, and began to subdue herself, but then shook her head.

"You know I'll be all right," she said, standing. That Meghan – ish air of dominance was back; I didn't know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

Seeing my dubious expression, she frowned and pursed her lips. "No seriously Puck, I'm fine. I am all right."

I shrugged, resigned. If she wanted it that way, let her have it; I could be perfectly stealthy following her, and her human ears wouldn't even detect it if I whispered into a tracker. I needed to keep Meghan safe…

I started. All of a sudden, Meghan had flung herself on me, and she was clutching my arms, staring into my face. Dangerously close.

My breath hitched, and then took on a startlingly speedy rate. My heart swelled, but something held me back – not something but some_one_. If the Erl king ever found out how attached to Meghan I was… I didn't even want to think about that.

Torn, something began to dawn on me, as I looked down at Meghan who was looking down at the floor. And it was that she had never, _ever_ shown feelings for me – and we fae are very observant. Selfish as it was, I couldn't help but think… _This is my only chance._

Meghan was so close, so _close_. She wanted me. Or even if I didn't, couldn't I think for one moment that she did? Didn't I deserve this one kind of triumph, of happiness? I gave in.

A barrier between us melted; I felt Meghan's indecision as thick as rain in the air, and I waited. I didn't have to wait long. For one moment, something inside her cared for me, not just as a presence but as a person. We melted together seamlessly, so close that I could feel her aura as clearly as her skin.

And then I stopped; not because I wanted to but because that was it. I _wasn't_ human; and if Meghan made the decision to forget whatever of faerie she'd seen, she would also forget me.

I was at a loss.

All of a sudden, a weight had been put on my shoulders, and it was crushing me; I did the only thing that made sense. I walked away, with Meghan's confused, frightened expression there to fill the gap of what could have happened between us.

For now at least – how do you like it so far? Comments, please!


	4. Chapter 4

I had been running for my life, my whole life.

I mean seriously, we fae are pretty lie – low types of people… And yeah, we have to be because if some random (but lets be honest, pretty hot) faerie chick who no one knew was a faerie chick got too boisterous at some club and accidently vaporized a guy she was dancing with (she's a summer faerie, ok?) it wouldn't really go over well.

So yeah, it made tons of sense to not socialize much, I guess.

But, being several hundred years old and having never had my share of teen parties or freedom, I was getting sick of it, you know?

And now I was running, again, but physically. Running as far away from that room, that school, from Meghan… And every step, every _inch_ that I traveled sent a blade of pain stabbing through me.

Seriously, at this rate I would be mincemeat by the time I made it to a forest or ditch or somewhere I could wallow in my own misery.

My side was cramping, and so I stopped at the edge of the road and whipped an apple out of my backpack – those always come in handy. I looked at it for a ridiculously long time, because for some reason I was so pathetically sad that the thought of eating something that used to be sort – of alive made me cringe. I tossed the thing into a bush and sat on the beam that lined the road. The metal was cool, but it did nothing to stop the stinging, shameful heat that was burning through my veins.

After a super painstaking few minutes of changing my position on the beam so as to not get metal – poisoning (who knew if those things were iron?), I made an important decision.

I was going back to the school.

There was a really big chance that Meghan wouldn't be there; she had a driver's lesson soon. And the front door was a few miles from my spot on the highway; however, being a faerie does have a few advantages.

For instance, speed isn't really a problem for me.

I brushed some invisible stuff off of my shirt; the idea of even seeing Meghan again, even imagining the puzzled, hurt expression that would probably still be on her face when I returned, sent a wracking shiver across my entire body.

Before I could think about it any longer, however, anxiety had taken over me, the anxiety that comes when you feel like you are about to loose something really important. Its hard to describe, and time seemed to break into these chunks as I flew across the road, sometimes speeding up, making me frightened that by the time I reached the school Meghan would be sixteen already.

And at other times, the minutes seemed to crawl like molasses and I was charging in one lightning, blessedly quick path through them on my way to my destination. It changed so that by the time I reached the doors, I had no idea whether it was five or nine in the evening.

It was only when I really looked up at the building, really took it in, that the enormity of my decision hit me. And then I saw it – I saw _him._

Two pairs of almond shaped, depthless eyes were staring down at me from the top floor. Those eyes were filled with hate, brimming with it, enough hate to make an ocean out of.

Instinctively, my predatory instincts kicked in. Light on my feet, I charged the doors, which crumpled behind me in a heap of wood chips.

Wonderful quality things are these days, right?

The hallway stretched before me, but I knew exactly where he was. I could _smell_ him – well not necessarily him, but that unmistakably acrid winter court odor that reeks from every pore of him. It was coming from above me, and I had no doubts about that _creature_ jumping me from the top floor – its not like he _couldn't_.

And then another thought occurred to me.

A new burst of adrenaline surged through me as the seconds ticked mercilessly away. I could have had all the speed in the world, I knew, but nothing would stop _him_ from hurting Meghan… Damn, the bastard knew that that would lure me here.

Lure me, my foot. Today he was really asking for it, and I was going to do whatever it took to get his filthy winter court _hands_ out of reach of Meghan.

I was panting like crazy by the time I reached the top floor. For an instant I surrendered to that crushing urge to collapse, or pass out, but then I heard the footsteps.

I spun around.

Meghan was right in front of me, as I'd thought. But there was a long blade – a blade I knew – pressed against her neck.

"Do anything, _move_, and she dies."

I fixed my gaze on him, and he readily met it. Sneering.

"Hello, Ash."

"Hello, Puck," The long, lithe faerie drawled, his face taut withy loathing. He leered, and advanced toward me. "Today you die."

Damn if Meghan and I got out of this, I would have a lot of explaining to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Meghan's body is taught and still, not like I've ever seen it before; her face is as pale as snow, and for a split second, she looks like a Sidhe or a ghost. I shudder and advance.

"Get out of my – our – way, Ash." I spit his name out as if it were a curse, because it might as well be. The Winter prince doesn't move, only gazes at me like I'm a worm on the bottom of his royal Shoe.

"I mean it, Summer _jester_," Ash suddenly whirls on me, keeping his blade locked at Meghan's throat all the while. "You took what was mine," He grimaces for a second, and quickly comes back scowling, "And now, now you have _finally_ found love – which I am about to take away from you."

Even in our previous encounters, I'd never seen prince Ash like this; never with stakes so high. His veins stand out as he rakes a tense hand through his slick, black hair. His eyes are narrowed to shots of silvery blue – black. His skin, always winter – cold and smooth, is steaming as it met with its first drops of sweat.

And granted, that is more than a bit satisfying.

But it is also dangerous, and so I draw my dagger; thank God I'd been cautious and taken it to school today, even if it was just so that I could make stealing a few champagne coolers a bit easier.

_Focus, focus, focus_.

It takes some time to remind myself that this is why Oberon chose me to take care of Meghan in the Human World; I'm a fighter, and I can think on my feet – that's what I've been doing for centuries, escaping at the spur of the moment. But this is different, because someone – someone I really care about – won't be willing to go to the measures that I will to get through this.

If only I'd warned Meghan, or paid more attention.

"You're not going to win, Ash, you'll never win," The words pop out of my mouth at the same time they come through my head, without me even realizing. "The only reason you'll never find love is because you _can't_ love, _Ice Prince_" – I say this with a certain venom, just in case I can never say anything else – "and no one can ever love _you_!" I leap as soon as Ash pauses to blink, but he is faster than I thought.

The Winter prince lunges across the hallway in a split second, too fast for my eyes to catch. Somewhere in between blocking and paring against his sharp jab, it dawns on me that I couldn't fight this battle alone – but with three doubles, perhaps. I mutter some words under my breath, and Ash is momentarily distracted. Without a moment to loose I grab for Meghan's hand, hoping she can get to it in time. As soon as I feel the tips of her fingers, damp and hot with sweat, and blessedly _human_, I run. She doesn't need to be asked twice to follow.

Ash recovers quickly from the distractions; somewhere in the spell, I forgot to let them continue to fight him. The prince spins around and thrusts his blade in front of him like a deadly Charger. I swerve to the side at the last minute.

"This is going to be a bit bumpy, princess;" I mutter in Meghan's ear, so close I can feel her heart beating wildly against her ribcage, and swoop off the ground.

Meghan's and Ash's cries – his angry, hers frightened – sound in unison as black feathers take the place of my back, and wings take the place of my legs. Meghan and I are flying in a jagged arc across the sky, and when I see the roof of her house I make a fast drop. She clutches at my neck feverishly.

We land with a huge thump, so massive the ground seems to rock. As soon as Meghan is off my back, the shock sets in; I recognize the swaying, and the mad panic in her eyes, combated only by exhaustion. She rocks once, twice back, and I reach to catch her when she falls.

As soon as she's supported, Meghan calms down enough to speak to me; her voice is reedy and as thin as sandpaper. I might make a joke about it, but it seems that shock has drained every comeback bone from my body.

"P-puck – what _was_ he-that?" Meghan struggles to make out the garbled question, the one I've been dreading. I am forced to look into her open, frightened face before I answer.

And then it hit me like a brick wall. I can't do anything but stare at her, and then I involuntarily lean forward, oblivious to the endless screaming of every muscle inside me saying no, and to go back; my nerves are stronger. And suddenly they are humming alive, with a feeling like I haven't had in a hundred years, as our lips meet.

((Yaaay))


	6. Chapter 6

The air hummed around me, warm and thick, a blanket surrounding Meghan and I. Every fiber of myself wants to press close to her, to go further… A slim amount of self control pushes me back. I lean into her gently.

Meghan's body tenses at first; it is clear she hasn't been expecting this, and my mind is too foggy to register that fact. But slowly, with the utmost trust, she relaxed. We were locked in an embrace completely, our lips touching tentatively, because we were seeing each other for the first time.

She pulled away from me after what felt like an hour, but must have been less than a minute. She opened her eyes and looked at me dazedly before her expression settled into pursed – lip coyness.

"Well…"

"Uhhh…"

"Frost – induced insanity?" Realizing the need for cover, I shrugged and grinned impishly at Meghan. Finally getting her bearings back she scowled, but no amount of grumbling could hide the blush in her face.

For a moment we both sat there, and then, unexpectedly, Meghan collapsed into my shoulder. I supported her, but eyed her quizzically.

"It's just… You really haven't told me much, have you," Meghan glanced up at me with a wry smile. "Come to think of it, you never've told me anything about your… Other life?" It was a question. She was daring me, baiting me, to tell her the truth. With a sigh I sat her down on the doorstep, walked over to the opposite window and drew in a deep breath. My eyes wandered from her to the trees, across the greenery, drawing strength from the raw earth. When Meghan began to tap her foot I sighed and began to tell the story.

"I'm… Well I-" I broke off and laughed a bit. "You'll never understand, princess."

Meghan looked at me and shot back, "Can too!"

"Uh… It's a bit insane really," I stammered.

"I like insane."

"Well, then. So, y'know how sometimes grandparents tell you about faerie superstitions and stuff?"

Meghan laughed, saying that she didn't. And then her eyes narrowed. "Just what are you suggesting, Robbie?"

"I'm suggesting that I'm a faerie."

Meghan tried to disguise her enormous double take. "You can't be serious."

"Can, too."

"No, really."

"Can, too!"

Meghan stood and walked closer to me, next to me. I held my breath as her arms brushed my shoulders and slid down my arms. She clutched my hands. "I mean, like, really serious, Robbie," She said solemnly. "This's important. You can't play games here."

I would've said 'can too', but it really didn't seem right.

And so, for the first time in millenea, I broke down the walls of my past. One by one.


	7. Chapter 7

Three hours later, Meghan and I are crouched over a pile of plays and an atlas in her room. My back is beginning to cramp by the time Meghan says shes satisfied.

And good grief, I shoot back, after all; Ive only just highlighted every single gateway to Faerie in the world and given you a crash course in the history of summer fae.

She snickers. Dont be bitter. Then the teasing vanishes from her expression, and her hands clench mine.

What am I supposed to do now?

I dunno. King Oberon didnt specify; he only gave me the time and date. However, if you _want_ me to command you to-

Shuddup! Meghan yells. At first I take it to be light, but then I see the real panic in her eyes. She looks down, but doesnt do so quickly enough.

Im sorry Meg.

Dont be.

I should have given you more time, more-

Suddenly, Meghan looses it. More time? Are you kidding me? Are you _crazy_? More time- She puts this in scathing punctuation -is what got me – us – into this freaking mess! You should have let me know sooner, because now, before I can help, that winter freak will tear up this entire town!

I am standing on the edge of the room now, almost amused. Heck I probably would be amused, but shes holding a pair of scissors. And everything shes saying is true. I hurry to fix the situation.

Alright, calm down we can fix this. Theres nothing to worry about. Ill contact Oberon – your father – and he can drive the rogue out In the midst of assuaging Meghan with clichs and hair-strokes, she notices something that I dont.

Puck.

Yeah?

Puck, theres something watching us down there. Meghan gestures toward the trellis at the foot of the gate. About fifteen yards away, I almost miss a slim, shaded hood disappearing in and out of the trees.

Meghan?

Yeah?

Take this. I thrust a rattail comb at her from my rain jacket pocket. The thing catches her off guard, and she looks at it with a puzzled, almost frightened, expression.

What?

Pull the handle off, I say. The words come out harsh, because all this time the hood has been moving from tree to tree, coming along the gate. Its nearly ten feet from the base of the house.

Meghan pulls. I watch her with a strange fascination as she pulls forth a curved blade, handling it like its a flower petal or a baby.

Meg, come on. Its a knife. You, of all people, oughtta realize that knives are given to people for a reason. My voice is even harsher now, and I dont bother to disguise it, because the hood isnt just a hood any more. Its a figure moving toward the window at full speed.

Meghan?

Uh-huh?

When I tell you, stick it into his flesh.

She doesnt have to ask what I mean, but I can see her cringe anyway.


End file.
